


Redemption by Blood

by GayGarbage1



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Healing, Redeemed Scourge (Warriors), Redemption, Scourge is a little emo man who doesn't know how to handle feelings, also i will be retconning things at will, and making it way more gay. exactly what we all deserve.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayGarbage1/pseuds/GayGarbage1
Summary: Scourge redemption AU where he survives the battle of BloodClan. He's ThunderClan's little bitch baby prisoner now.
Relationships: Cinderpelt & Cloudtail (Warriors), Cinderpelt & Scourge (Warriors), Firestar & Princess (Warriors), Firestar & Scourge (Warriors), Firestar/Graystripe (Warriors), Firestar/Sandstorm (Warriors), Sandstorm & Graystripe (Warriors)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> never read Greystripe's super edition or Rise of Scourge this is just the emo man from my brain ok. let him be who he needs to be.
> 
> feedback would be appreciated! i tried to mimic the canon writing style but like. make it less dry.

_“You did,” Firestar spat back at him. “But I am a leader with nine lives who fights alongside StarClan. Can you say as much?”_

_..._

A lean black cat laid in the ThunderClan medicine den, side rising and falling feebly, black pelt plastered against what was little more than skin and bone. Scourge had been unconscious for nearly a quarter moon now, only stirred by the medicine cat’s urges for him to drink, though she suspected even then he wasn’t _really_ awake. 

Dark images flitted through his mind, no thought staying long enough for him to catch or contemplate them. His mind was stuck in a sickly mud, feverishly thick and inescapable. His ear fur was stirred only by the caterwauls of battling cats, nostrils filled with the scent of damp earth stirred by claws and fresh spilled blood. If he’d had the state of mind for it he would have suspected he was dead and this was his hell.

Cold, night sleet battered the roof of the den when he began to open his eyes for the first time. The fire of pain roared through the heavy bite wound on his throat, and his pelt bristled as he gasped, at once seeing his breath fog the air before him. His paws scrambled at the moss nest beneath him but he found himself unable to stand- or more, unable to orient himself. He panted, frantic when he heard something rustle behind him from the darkness of the den that he couldn’t move his head to perceive. He recognized the sound of light pawsteps but it did not soothe him.

“Get back!” He rasped, voice no more than a harsh whisper. The words tore at his throat like vicious teeth, making him wheeze and unsheath his claws. He realized that his threat hadn’t done much good as a sooty grey she-cat continued to approach him. 

“You’re awake,” she murmured, sleep still on her tongue. She leaned down to sniff at his throat wound, which he only now noticed was covered in cobwebs and a bunch of acrid smelling chewed up herbs. He bared his teeth but he could muster nothing else, his paws twitching in pent up frustration. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” Scourge hissed. 

The sleep-ruffled stranger seemed to find that spitefully amusing. “Doing _what_ to you? Keep you alive?” She had little time for his victim complex. He grunted in irritation but did not reply. Padding towards the entrance of the den, the grey she-cat poked her head out to address the guard that had been placed there. “Thornclaw,” she greeted softly, “go fetch Firestar. Scourge is awake.”

“Yes, Cinderpelt.” 

Scourge heard a cat pad away on dry grass as Cinderpelt- or at least he assumed that was her name- returned. He tried to shift into a sitting position, body aching from laying on his side for so long. He wondered idly how long he’d been there for. His pelt was rumpled but he could tell that he’d been groomed. With a flash he realized something; his collar was gone. He breathed in to speak his objections, but his side trembled as he was racked with a fit of coughing. He tasted the coppery tang of blood in his mouth but he assumed that was from his injury. 

Before Cinderpelt could start fussing over him again, he continued. “What happened to my collar?” He asked, eyes narrowed and fixed on her. It wasn’t just merely a kittypet collar to him, it was his Clan’s symbol, a point of pride of his. Studded with real dog teeth, it’d become a sign of his strength. 

“We had to chew it off,” she informed him matter-of-factly, flicking her ear to it’s tattered remains resting in the dark corner of the den. It’s silver tag gleamed in the low light.

Scourge bristled and spat in rage, pale eyes blazing like cold fire. “ _Why?_ ”

“It was dirty, and kept your wound infected, so I took it off,” Cinderpelt explained coolly. The tooth studded collar was blood stained and speckled with mud, it’s purple hue bleached lighter from long term wear. In fact, Scourge had been wearing it so long that even now, days after it had been removed, the fur around his neck was still ruffled and slightly compressed, as if it had grown used to the item being there. 

“And my claws? Those were causing an infection too?” He retorted bitterly. 

“Oh no, you just can’t have those anymore,” she replied, imitating cheer. He snorted and looked away from her. 

“Cinderpelt! He’s awake?” An fiery orange tabby slipped into the den on quick paws, shadowed closely by a sandy brown tom-cat. From the scent Scourge recognized this as the Thornclaw his caretaker had been speaking to earlier. 

“And talking my ears off,” she reported to him dryly. 

“...Scourge,” Firestar breathed. His green eyes flickered with uncertainty, paws kneading the ground like an unsure apprentice. His pelt was still littered with the wounds the black cat had given him, at least one had been fatal. The former BloodClan leader glowered at him. 

“Why have you kept me alive?” Scourge asked him bluntly after a moment of icy silence. “I _killed_ you. BloodClan has killed your Clanmates.”

Firestar cleared his throat before he spoke. “Killing is dishonorable. It’s against the warrior code to kill if not in self-defense, and when we found you were still breathing you were no longer a threat.”

That was a solid contender for the stupidest thing he’s ever heard but he was in no place to argue. “How long do you plan on keeping me here?” He rasped.

Firestar’s gaze flickered to Cinderpelt and then to Thornclaw, though the young warrior remained silent and was lingering back at the entrance of the den. “We can’t let you leave. StarClan willing to keep you alive, you will be staying with ThunderClan.”

Scourge felt betrayed by his own body as he was racked with another bout of coughing, trailing off with a wheeze. “So I’m your prisoner then?” He asked, as he glanced over to Cinderpelt who was disappearing into the back of the den, soon returning with leaves clamped in her jaws which she gently urged him to eat. He didn’t complain though they tasted like bitter mint. He felt his wheezing ease some after he swallowed it. 

“For the time being, yes.” Firestar replied. “If you can make yourself useful perhaps you can become a member of ThunderClan.”

 _A member of ThunderClan_ . Scourge suppressed a burst of raspy laughter and disguised it as another convenient coughing fit. He couldn’t say he was exactly cocky about the situation he was in, though. Nerves prickled through his fur and his gut sat heavy as a stone despite having been empty for so long. _I don’t think they’ll be very accommodating,_ he thought bitterly, _but I don't have a choice here._ “Will you be taking care of me then?”

Firestar paused, but nodded. “Thornclaw, go get him something to eat.” He spoke in good faith. Thornclaw looked unsure, perhaps because of the second wave of worsening leaf-bare right before new-leaf, but he wasn’t going to disobey him. He returned with a scrawny shrew in his maw which he dropped ungraciously in front of the black BloodClan tom and stepped back outside. 

“Don’t eat too quickly,” Cinderpelt chided as the black cat snatched up the prey with a flash of a white paw, “you’ll make yourself sick. Bile won’t do your healing wound any good when it was your _throat_ that was punctured.” 

Scourge nodded, not getting the prickle of irritation he thought he would. _I guess I was hungrier than I thought_ , he admitted to himself silently. “Thank you,” he grumbled softly between mouthfuls of stringy and underfed shrew. It’d just have to do for now while he regained his strength. “I think I’ve got the idea, Firestar.” He looked up at the fiery tom, his eyes dulled. A wave of exhaustion had passed over him as he’d started to eat, and his throat wounds were still inflamed and painful. “You don’t have to stand over me like a nursing queen.”

“Go ahead, I can watch him,” Cinderpelt assured him. Scourge rolled his eyes. 

Firestar nodded in understanding and touched his tail to the medicine cat’s shoulder to gesture her to follow him outside, though both of them were wary about it due to the sleet that had been worsening with the night. Scourge didn’t get to catch their conversation as he was beginning to get dizzy again with sickness and exhaustion. He laid his head down on his paws, meager coughs once making his side heave, though it wasn’t as bad about it as before thanks to the herbs he’d eaten earlier. His eyelids drooped and the world went black as he fell back into a heavy sleep, dreams barren and empty. 

Chilled leaf-bare sunlight streamed through the ivy strands growing over some of the entrance of the medicine cat den, bright birdsong rising in the early morning air. Wind was blowing gently that morning but the cold made it feel harsh and obtrusive against the cats starting to stir for their duties at dawn. Scourge pushed himself to his paws for the first time since he’d awoken the night before, shouldering himself out of the crack in the rock that was the opening. 

The camp’s bustling activity paused for a moment as cats one by one began to notice that he was up and out. A dusty brown she-cat spat at him and stalked back into the warriors den, tail bushed, quickly followed by a white she-cat who gave him a similar treatment. He noted that almost all of the ThunderClan cats still had wounds from the battle with his Clan and he felt a spark of shame prickle through his pelt that he’d still been bested by them. He could’ve done better had they not been backed by some kind of supernatural force that the leader’s had been given that allowed them to be deathless up until a point. The cats were also grieving, he noted, though over who he did not know. 

Cinderpelt pushed her way past him standing near the opening of the rock into the medicine den. “Where do you think you’re going? And right during the guard changes too? You can’t just go and sneak off,” she warned him. She was serious and wasn’t being friendly towards him but she was the only cat other than Firestar who had engaged with him as of yet. So far he found her tolerable enough not to swat at though he was still angered that she had destroyed his collar and confiscated his claws. 

“I’m hungry,” Scourge told her, ear twitching towards the fresh-kill pile he spotted across the grassy clearing. He began to walk over there but she rushed to get in front of him, aggravating her limp. It was the first time he’d noticed her injury, and he was surprised he had not caught it before. One of her back legs was badly mangled, furless and scarred patches going up to her flank and a splayed out back paw which seemed to have healed bent at an odd angle. He grimaced. _What could’ve possibly done that?_ he thought.

“The hunting patrols haven't returned yet,” she told him, tone sharpened slightly by her dislike of him. “Prisoners eat _last_.”

“Well when do sick cats eat?” He asked, forcing large innocent eyes and faking a light cough. He received a quick cuff over the ear from the dark grey medicine cat who he judged to be in particularly bad humor. His gaze flickered over to the camp entrance. “I can hunt for my own food if you’d allow me so _graciously_ to do so,” he said, tone sarcastic and sharp like an edge of ice.

Cinderpelt blinked at him in surprise at how brazen he was. “Not alone you're not. Not a chance.”

“Then come with me, so I don't run off or get lost in your forest,” Scourge suggested dryly. Being honest with himself he knew that even being disabled as she was, he was injured and was dwarfed by the decently sized she-cat. His ears went back slightly in apprehension after he thought about it. 

Cinderpelt kneaded at the ground as she thought about it, eyeing him up. A flicker of recognition passed over her face and he realized she knew her advantages, as if she’d read his thoughts. She narrowed her eyes at him before turning to a large cat passing by, still littered with healing wounds and gashes. He remembered this cat, he realized with a flash- he remembered tousling with him during the battle before being fought off by Firestar. 

“Cloudtail! Can I steal you away for a moment?” The medicine cat called out to him. The large white warrior turned to look at her, eyes immediately alight with fury as he caught eyes with the black furred cat sitting beside her. Perhaps it was a bit vain of him but Scourge saw his own eyes looking back at him. That pale cerulean blue was familiar to him, and most certainly to the BloodClan cats he had ruled over. 

“What do you need?” The warrior grunted, not taking his eyes off of him. 

“Mind escorting me and our uh- guest here, to hunt?”

Cloudtail’s blue eyes glinted. “Of course.”

Cinderpelt started forward towards the camp entrance and Cloudtail shadowed Scourge, towering over him from behind for a moment, before padding up to catch up with the medicine cat. “Are you sure about this?” He asked, lowering his voice to a much gentler whisper, before adding, “I won’t say anything if you don’t,” he murmured, glancing back at him. She shook her head at him, baring her teeth before picking up her pace and leaving the two of them behind. 

Snaking through the thicket camp entrance, he found himself wide-eyed at the size of the ThunderClan forest surrounding their home, but held his tongue and refused to comment on it. Cinderpelt threw her head back to speak with Cloudtail again. 

“Where should we try first?" The grey she-cat called back to him. 

" _Snakerocks_." Cloudtail replied bitterly, tail ruffled. "Haven't sent a hunting patrol there since almost a half moon ago." Cinderpelt rolled her eyes but agreed, changing the direction she was walking in, scrambling over some logs and rocks with some difficulty, leaving scrapes in the moss with her claws. 

Scourge bunched the muscles in his hindlegs and pushed up like an explosion, claws catching on the edge of the ledge of the fallen tree log. He was small and the jump was difficult for him while he was injured, and left him breathing hard as he scrambled with his back legs and had to be pulled up by the much larger and limber white warrior, who scruffed him by the neck like a helpless kit. He bit down just a _tad_ too hard on the back of his neck for his liking. 

“Don’t do that! I’m _not_ your _kit!_ ” The BloodClan leader roared, enraged and fur standing on end. Two pairs of blue eyes met in icy fury, both cats slowly shouldering up to one another until they were merely a mouse tail’s length from being muzzle to muzzle. Scourge’s head was angled high to match the gaze of the ThunderClan warriors, who did not flinch under such pressure. 

Cloudtail flexed his claws against the bark of the log they were perched on, he could tell he was itching to get his revenge. For his wounds, for his Clan, for Whitestorm- it didn’t matter his motivation. “Look here, Scourge,” he sneered his name with venom on his breath, “none of us were particularly happy about Firestar’s decision to keep you here. I’m no exception. And you’re being _ungrateful_ when we’re taking you to hunt on _our_ land. When I help you up this ledge after you’ve killed our deputy. We owe you nothing. And you deserve even less. So from now on you’re going to shut your trap until you catch enough food to feed yourself for the next few days so nobody else has to bother supervising you out here, you understand?”

Scourge glared at him but took a step back, looking at his paws. It had been years since he had been properly scolded, and his pelt felt hot and his head dizzy. 

Cinderpelt looked between the two warily. “Come on now,” she meowed quietly, obviously a bit shaken by the white tom’s outburst, though it didn’t look like she found it undeserved. She hopped down and continued on the path towards Snakerocks, followed by Cloudtail and Scourge who felt like a dead rat stuck in mud. 

The sun had risen considerably by the time they’d arrived. The wind was blowing harder now, making the naked branches of the trees around Snakerocks clatter like teeth, a large bird soaring on the wind overhead. Frost still glittered on the rocks and grass in the clearing they were approaching. Scourge could still see his breath in the air and the ground was marshy from how long it had sleeted the night before. The two cats accompanying him seemed oddly uncomfortable there, but his mouth felt too dry to speak up to question them about it, not to mention he had taken Cloudtail’s warning to heart. 

He swallowed hard to ignore the oppressive feeling that hung over the rocky clearing. He faintly could still scent dog and dog’s blood, a smell he knew well, but he didn’t connect any dots about it. Shadows passed overhead as a cloud passed the path of the sun’s light, shifting the shadows in the area. Opening his jaws to scent the air, he felt the wound on his throat begin to burn from the cold. He could smell- he could smell adders! _I guess that’s how this place got its name_ , he thought alertly. _It’s leaf-bare_ , he reminded himself, _there won’t be any snakes out_. Taking another deep breath in through his mouth, he slithered forward, belly nearly pressed against the smooth sandy colored stone as he spotted a squirrel nibbling warily on a dug-up acorn. It was perched on a ridge on a nearby rock, looking up from it’s food every few heartbeats to check it’s surroundings for dangers. 

Luckily he noticed it hadn’t spotted him yet, and he wriggled forward on light and skilled paws. He sprung forward with a warrior’s seasoned precision, snapping his teeth down on it’s throat. It squealed in death as it’s tangy prey-blood danced on his tongue. 

“Good catch,” Cinderpelt called to him quietly, watching from a safe distance hunkered down on a rock with three of her paws tucked underneath her body, the fourth jutting out from the side, broken looking and mangled. 

He was surprised by the praise and he squirmed his haunches before continuing to poke around for prey. He honed in on a scrawny songbird pecking at the roots of an old pine tree at the edge of the clearing, scrabbling over loose rocks under his paws. 

“ _Scourge!_ ” A screech rose from the other side of the clearing, making him whip around in shock, blue eyes wide. He was met with a look of terror at something behind him. 

Agonizing pain scored into his back as a pair of claws hooked into his flesh. Straining his neck to look at his assailant, he caught sight of a huge tawny bird that had decided he was going to be it's next meal. He yowled in terror and pain, lashing about helplessly in the predator's grasp. Wind roared against his ear fur, the loud flapping of the hawk's wings almost deafening. He realized quickly that being as small as he was, he was dead without help. 

He felt himself being lifted up further into the air, his chest tightening with every breath he took. He was still injured, and he'd been aware of it for the whole journey out to Snakerocks, but now his sides heaved painfully and breath hitched inside his throat with every one he sucked between his jaws. 

A yowl of fury alerted him to his savior, a large sooty grey ball of fur ramming into the bird of prey's side, soon joined by a bright white one. Cloudtail tore at the bird's neck with his claws, Cinderpelt snapping at its wings with her teeth. Wounded, the bird shrieked so loud and high pitched Scourge was sure it made his ears ring- or maybe that was from how little he could breathe. They all four hit the ground with a considerable thud against stone. 

His head was swimming now, ears filled with an intolerable ringing and vision edged with fuzzy blackness. It felt like he was seeing and hearing everything from a very long tunnel away from his companions. Neck wobbling, he saw the white furred warrior batter at the still living bird with his forepaws, eyes brimming with virulent hatred. Cloudtail clamped his mouth over its neck and shook it like a hound shakes water off itself. The hawk was dead now. His vision went black after that. 

Scourge didn't know how much time had passed before he felt a tongue rasping over his forehead, against the grain of his fur. He heaved out a raspy groan as his sides ached where he'd been punctured, still burning like it was fresh. He sensed his pelt was still slick with blood and his eyes flickered open to see they were still in that sandy, rocky hollow in ThunderClan territory. 

"Cloudtail! Go find cobwebs!" Cinderpelt called, Scourge flinching from how close she was to his ears. "You're awake! Good," she breathed. 

He watched blearily Cloudtail bound off between low shrubbery. "Can't breathe," he murmured between shallow and gasping breaths. 

"I know, I know," she soothed. She was being genuine, he noticed, he was at this moment no longer the murderous leader of BloodClan, and rather her helpless patient who needed her attention. "I need you to move your back legs for me, and your tail, to see if your spine is injured," she told him, voice firm. 

He didn't have the energy to disobey, and frankly he didn't want to. Now wasn't the time for snappy arguments or pointless quarreling. He shuffled his back paws and twitched the tip of his tail, but that was all he could manage while being so tired and out of it. He closed his eyes again, but he was still awake. 

"Good! Good." Cinderpelt began to pace slightly as she waited for Cloudtail to return, but quickly began dressing his wounds once he had. 

"Do you think you can walk?" It was Cloudtail's voice this time, out of breath from the fight and irritable at the thought of having to carry the tom back home. 

Scourge gasped but could not form any words, and the medicine cat only could offer Cloudtail a biting glare. "He's badly hurt!" She scolded. "Let him rest for a moment."

A good amount of time passed before he felt well enough to sit up and speak, Cloudtail and grown increasingly impatient during that time, but the ThunderClan medicine cat had continued to tend to him. "Why'd you save me?" He breathed out finally, swiveling his head over to speak to the warrior. 

"Huh- Oh. Cinderpelt jumped and after that I felt obligated." He replied. Scourge snorted but he felt that he might have appreciated the honesty a bit. "Can you walk yet or not?" 

Scourge got to his paws and they set off back towards the camp after they had collected the meager prey they had caught. That wasn't all, though, as Cloudtail stubbornly insisted he got to drag the dead bird back home too. Cinderpelt pushed her way through the bramble tunnel first, and was greeted with the Clan in a tizzy, Greystripe sorting a patrol at the base of the high rock while warriors scrambled around the clearing. 

"Great StarClan! They're back!" A tall pale sandy tabby tom yowled. It was Longtail. "The prisoner is with them." 

Greystripe bounded over to them as the Clan all turned to look. The new deputy was clearly frazzled. "Where were you!? You can't just go wandering off with a dangerous cat like tha…." His voice trailed off as he saw Cloudtail pull himself into camp, having to walk backwards through the brambles to tug the giant bird along with him. 

A small crowd had gathered to gawk at the now haggard makeshift hunting patrol. Firestar quickly nosed his way to the front once he noticed the commotion, reaching to stand next to Greystripe, and Longtail retreating to stand by his flank but not back into the crowd. 

"Explain yourselves," Firestar ordered sternly, eyes narrowed. 

Scourge stepped forward before Cinderpelt could speak, dropping the squirrel at his own paws. "I convinced them to let me hunt," He rasped dryly, casting a glance back behind him at the two cats who'd accompanied him. "We were hunting at- what was it called? Snakerocks? When that hawk tried to attack." And from the look of his blood-streaked black pelt, it had succeeded. 

"Cloudtail killed it," Cinderpelt piped up after a moment. "It's not a danger to any cat now." 

The orange tabby stared in shock for a few heartbeats but nodded, regaining composure. "I'm glad you managed to catch such a large piece of prey. In leaf-bare at that. However, I will have to punish you for your _obvious_ lapse in judgement." His green eyes glinted slightly. 

"Scourge," he continued. "You are not to leave camp again for the time being without my _explicit_ approval, even if you have a warrior escort. Cinderpelt…As our medicine cat, I expected you to know better. I believe you'll learn from this mistake without need for excess work on your paws, especially after a battle. As for you, Cloudtail, he turned to face him, "you will eat last tonight, only after all the warriors and apprentices have eaten their fill." 

From the look on the white warrior's face Scourge assumed this was not his first time being reprimanded by someone in authority. 

"Cats of ThunderClan!" Firestar meowed. "Come, let us enjoy a feast for the season. A celebration of a battle won!" He called. Yowls of agreement rose up from the crowd and a few congratulated Cloudtail on his catch. The Clan cats began to mingle together, and he stepped back from their gathering. 

He picked his squirrel back up from the damp ground, it's body having grown chilled. Trotting off back towards the medicine den, Scourge was alone. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scourge interacts with more ThunderClan cats, and finds out more about his heritage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay babes....I promise u. i did not lose interest in this story. i'm still full in to my redeemed emo catboy. i'm just a depressed bitch and wrote the first chapter in like twelve hours while manic. i have a LOT planned for Scourge. personally not a fan of the quality of this chapter but honestly u get what u get lol. i'll try to keep writing but im an artist by trade not an author.
> 
> ALSO. if you want me to touch on certain canon characters, just leave a comment! or message me on discord @ ambrosia-guts#3697 if you wanna talk more in-depth about stuff. im not scary i love talking. im the most extroverted introvert u ever seen i never shut up. if you have suggestions for separate stories about cats you think you can sell me on, feel free to try as well, trust me it's easy to slap me on the ass with an extra fixation. 
> 
> yes it's my aesthetic to type this badly and then write like a normal human being. gotta make a few sacrifices u know. thanks for noticing <3

It was the first time Scourge had left the medicine den since his numerous injuries. He had needed rest, and he had admitted that to himself. Cinderpelt was a good medicine cat, he thought to himself as he nosed his way past her and into the clearing. She dipped her head to him on his way past.

Despite the rivalry that should come between a Clan cat and their prisoner, Cinderpelt had treated him kindly-  _ even if sharply _ , from the beginning, and he was thankful for that. The wounds on his spine and sides still stung but he had been cleaned up well, and he no longer had so many issues breathing, though his cough had yet to let up. 

Making his way into the clearing, not as many cats bothered to regard him with as much outright aggression as before. Only one or two cats spat at him, most reduced to quiet and far-off glares. Scourge kept his head low, eyes scoring the earth in front of his paws just to keep eye contact to as little as possible. Leaf-bare chill still rattled the leafless trees around the camp like hollow bones, but as the Clan recovered from their battle, food had become easier to catch for the healing group. He caught hints of the scent of fresh grass shoots popping up and saw tiny fuzzy buds that had started to appear on the trees, and knew new-leaf was approaching. 

Scourge moved to pick up a piece of prey from the fresh-kill pile, settling not being picky and clamping a small mouse between his teeth and padding away. While he had chosen to be courteous, his attitude towards his situation hadn’t changed overnight, and if he had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t at all. His eyes darted around until he spotted a place to eat without being bothered, which he made his way too. He sat down between a clump of ferns and began to eat, savoring the flavor of a forest-blooded meal.  _ Better than twoleg garbage, _ he thought with a bitter tang.

A piercing wind blew through the camp as he ate, urging him to tuck his paws underneath him. He fluffed out his fur to ease the cold buffeting at him. It was during these times he remembered the warmth of his youth, though he did not miss his family or littermates. The ease of it all was comforting, though. 

His ears perked as he heard the fern before him rustle. Was there a mouse inside the camp? He stood up and took a step back so as to not get bitten by surprise. 

A tiny white paw reached out from within the ferns to try and catch his prey-mouse by the tail. There had been a kit hiding practically right under his nose. Looking up with wide eyes realizing she’d been caught, the small calico she-kit poked her head out of the fronds she had snuck underneath. He stared down at it, dumbfounded. 

“...Can I have a bite?” She asked finally. 

“I- uh-  _ what _ ?” Scourge really didn’t understand what was going on. Kittens were taught from a young age in BloodClan not to disturb him, and yet this child had approached him so brazenly. Didn’t she know who he was? He looked back at the ground and pushed the mouse closer to her with a paw. “Go ahead,” he grumbled under his breath. 

“I’m Sorrelkit!” The she-kit beamed, shoving her muzzle into the mouse he was eating to tear off a small strip of meat. 

“I’m...Scourge,” he introduced himself to her, voice low. 

“Oh I know you! You killed Tigerstar,” she nodded to herself as if she was still making sense of it herself. “What is a scourge anyway? I don’t like the way it sounds,” she continued as if it was nothing, taking another small bite of his meal. 

He shook his head at her behavior but he wasn’t sure what else to expect from a kit. “Scourge means a great evil or punishment,” he told her dryly. He settled back down into a lying position and nipped the mouse back over to himself to continue to eat, getting a squeak in protest from Sorrelkit. 

“You’re not evil though...are you?” She asked innocently, shuffling her forepaws. She continued to look up at him, reaching to snag his mouse back closer to herself as if he wouldn’t notice. He allowed it. “You killed Tigerstar. He was evil. How can you be evil if  _ you _ killed  _ him? _ ”

He grunted uncomfortably and looked away from her. 

“Are you going to be staying here? Will you be fixing your silly name?”

Scourge snorted and rolled his eyes. “Off with you! Go back to your mother, she must be looking for you.” There was no bite to his words but he had raised his voice considerably. The kit tipped her head to the side at him but shrugged. 

“Can I take the mouse?”

“Not a chance.”

He spotted another kit bounding towards where he was, this one dark grey. “Willowpelt!” He mewled. “I found Sorrelkit!” He bit down on his sister’s tail to attempt and pull her out of the fronds of ferns, yanking her back and ending up in a scrabbling match between the two kittens, rolling around on the dusty earth of the ThunderClan camp. 

“Thank you dear,” a pale grey she-cat murmured distantly. Scourge guessed this was the littermates’ mother. He could see the resemblance in the tom’s fur and the shape of Sorrelkit’s small muzzle. She turned to look at her kits play fighting endearingly before her gaze drifted up to the black tom sitting not a tail-length away from them. She immediately bristled. 

She approached him fiercely, back arched and tail ruffled. “Get away from my kits!” She yowled, blue eyes blazing. She raised a paw and battered at his face, claws sheathed, spitting with rage. He hissed and moved to defend himself, but hesitated and slunk back closer to the camp wall instead. 

“He didn’t do anything-” Sorrelkit was swiftly silenced by a mouthful of fur as her mother’s tail was lashed right over her nose. 

“I didn’t touch your kits!” He hissed, crouched non-threateningly and pressed hard against the bramble wall of the camp. 

“They shouldn’t be unsupervised long enough to have come bothering me in the first place. Sorrelkit asked to share my food,” he explained hotly, visibly angered. His eyes were icy. “If I’d turned her down I’m sure you welcoming lot would’ve taken that as a sign of aggression too.” No matter what he did it would be reacted to negatively, he knew that now very well, and he felt his chest grow heavy and ache with resentment. 

The Clan deputy and a broad-shouldered tabby apprentice were quick to break up the fight. Greystripe leaning down to soothe Willowpelt, who Scourge noted must have been his mother, too. 

Bramblepaw scruffed Sorrelkit to stop the fight and pulled away her littermate at the same time, amber eyes gleaming with desperation to get them away from that cat. 

Scourge eyed him warily, now outnumbered and unwilling to try and provoke them further violence. That apprentice before him though, that dark brown amber eyed tabby…he was reminded of something. Of someone. Of  _ Tigerstar _ . 

_ Suddenly- Tiny was a kit again. Huddled against the fence of his housefolks’ yard as Tigerpaw loomed over him, claws unsheathed. He felt hot blood trickling down his ear and into his eye, he felt a roaring in his ears from adrenaline that dulled the sounds of the world around him. He was nothing but a scrap of fur in the claws of a monster, being tossed around for amusement. He was being shown a lesson. _

A flicker of horror and recognition passed over Scourge's gaze as he stood up, pelt standing on end. Even now, as a cat seasons older, Bramblepaw was still bigger than him, wider than him,  _ stronger _ than him. "Get back!" He snapped, voice shrill and brittle with hatred and fear. 

“Huh?” Bramblepaw was shocked by the older black tom’s outburst. His ears were back and his whiskers were quivering. He was upset. 

Scourge didn’t take the time to ponder about his reaction, though, as within seconds he bolted. Paws scrambled against the earth as he pushed himself with all the strength he could manage to muster right back to the medicine den. He had shoved himself into a dark crevice of the den, entire body trembling and his eyes tightly screwed shut. His mind was whirling, it felt like he could still feel the burning cuts that Tigerpaw had given him all those years ago. He panted hard, welcoming the damp and cool section of the corner he’d tucked himself into. He felt the ground pressed up against his chest and belly and he felt a lot more grounded. He breathed more softly now. 

Cinderpelt shuffled her way out of the herb store, pelt bristling with surprise. “Scourge! What happened out there? You look like you saw a three-headed badger coming your way.” She leaned down to sniff at him and he flinched away, too shaken to speak still. “You’re in shock…” She murmured, disappearing back into the den again only to return with thick round leaves to present him with.

“Thyme leaves. Eat them.” She told him, giving him a brisk lick on the ear to encourage him. 

“Th-Thyme leaves…” He repeated after a moment, just to distract himself. He breathed in it’s fresh minty scent which he felt helped clear his nostrils. Opening his mouth, he meagerly began to chew on the leaves. He swallowed the chewed up plant matter and felt soothed by the taste and smell. His eyelids drooped slightly from the adrenaline rush ending, cooling him out. His pelt felt hot from all the energy he had expended during his outburst. 

Firestar pushed his way into the den giving no warning, neck fur bristling and eyes accusatory. “Scourge,” he called out to him, heavy voice slicing through the tension in the den like a claw through warm mud. “What happened? You’ve managed to upset Bramblepaw and Willowpelt quite badly. Explain yourself,” he grunted, clearly impatient. 

“ _ He _ upset  _ them?? _ He barely could breathe when he got in here.” Cinderpelt said, visibly bewildered. Scourge nudged her shoulder with his nose to stop her from defending him. She didn’t stop him. 

He took in a deep breath of air through his nose before he spoke/. ”Sorrelkit was speaking with me…” He murmured. “Willowpelt- her mother, yes? She got angry,” he explained, voice low and thoughtful, a stark contrast to his normal unhappy raspy snark.

“And Bramblepaw?” Firestar asked, eyes narrowed but with a tang of sympathy on his voice. He looked like he was trying to be a strong leader, but he was young and his empathy was visibly getting in the way.

Scourge cleared his throat, and spoke harder now. “He reminded me of someone.”

“Tigerstar.” Firestar put in before he could elaborate any further. “But why were you scared of him like that? You killed him with your own two paws,” he meowed, ears pricked. That sense of empathy didn’t get the ginger tom very far when he was oblivious. 

The black cat glared at him slightly, throat tightening with his unwillingness to speak. He coughed once and pushed through it. “Tigerstar slashed a festering wound throughout all the Clans. Do you think it was only Clan cats who were affected by his wrath?” He asked, being purposefully cryptic. 

“Elaborate. As far as we know his grabs for power began with the murder of the old ThunderClan deputy, Redtail, and continued from there, but we don’t know anything about him interacting with kittypets until he heard of BloodClan,” Firestar explained, urging him to continue speaking. He was leaning in, eyes wide with surprise, deeply interested. Cinderpelt was silent now, listening intently, whiskers trembling in apprehensive horror at what could possibly come out. 

“Our...Dealings- I suppose that’d be what I would call them- was not the first time we had met,” Scourge said flatly. 

Firestar tipped his head to the side, concerned for him and confused. 

“I’m older than you, Firestar,” he continued, “By many seasons. When I was just a kit, I got through the gap in my housefolks’ fence. I wandered into ThunderClan territory like I suspect you did at the same age,” he spoke gently now. 

“And I met Greystripe when he was just a ‘paw,” Firestar told him, nodding.

“I wasn’t as lucky as you. I met Tigerpaw...And his mentor, I believe. They were on patrol with a blue-grey she-cat but I did not catch her name.” Scourge saw the ThunderClan leader falter slightly. Looks like this story wasn’t going where he thought it would have but he doubted he could say he was shocked or surprised. “His mentor ordered him to attack me- to chase me off your territory. Only reason he didn’t outright kill me was because the other cat told them both to stop. His mentor just stood there and watched him toss me around like a worthless scrap of fur,” he meowed. 

“So when you saw Bramblepaw...you saw Tigerstar,” Firestar breathed, face softening with knowing sympathy. Had he experienced the same thing? “I understand where you’re coming from. I’m sorry you got so startled.” With a heavy hand of hesitation, he touched his nose to his ear lightly and pulled back.

“So you were a real kittypet at some point?” Cinderpelt asked, her voice immediately lightening the oppressive feeling looming over the den. 

Scourge looked at her questioningly at the odd wording she had chosen. “Yes, for most of my kithood. Wasn’t for me, really,” he grunted. 

“Did you live near each other do ya think?” She asked.

The black cat sputtered. “Live near each other-? I had never seen Firestar before until you all saw me. Not all kittypets know each other, Cinderpelt.” Though...his mother had mentioned someone that had looked like him before. He was so young then he had trouble getting the memory to form as anything but a fuzzy and indistinct thought.

“Well you  _ do _ look alike, you know.”

Both the cats visibly almost burst into laughter, but Scourge was worse at hiding it. “Oh yes! You can tell from how similar our pelts are! We’re just nearly matching,” he said, voice sharp like sandpaper with sarcasm. 

Cinderpelt bristled, and raised a paw to smack him with but held off. "No I mean it! You have the same jawline, and your eyes are shaped the same. And-! And your fur is similar! Not the color but it's the same length and texture." 

Scourge looked at her, slightly concerned for her eyesight. Firestar had turned and started padding around him to try and get a better look. 

"You're not really concerned about this are you?" He asked roughly. 

"Where did you live? Back then?" Firestar dodged the question and offered another one up instead. He chose not to call him out for it, though. 

"Up…Ugh- up at the twoleg nest with the striped fence. I lived with my mother Quince. Fawn grey she-cat with a pink little jingly collar." 

"Oh Quince! My mother spoke of her before. Not very kindly, at that," Firestar said in a more lighthearted tone. In truth Scourge did find this funny but he chose not to show it, tucking his muzzle between his paws slyly. He wasn't being as slick as he thought he was but nobody said anything. 

"I lived next to Smudge, in the den with the red roof and peach colored outside den walls," Firestar told him. 

Scourge repeated the name Smudge a few times to see if it felt familiar on his tongue, but it didn't. "I'm sorry, I don't think I know him," he admitted. 

"That's alright…" Firestar hesitated. "I'll show you. I'm overdue to visit Princess anyhow." 

"Princess?" He questioned.

"My sister," he told him. "She lives near the Twoleg nest I used to. Cloudtail and I visit her sometimes, that's her son- and my nephew." 

A flicker of recognition passed over Scourge's gaze as he noted the similarities between them from memory. Cloudtail was bulkier than Firestar, and longer-furred, but resembled him quite well. But those eyes…

"Are you sure you want to take me out with you? You remember what happened last time," he reminded him, reasonably wary. 

Firestar gave a warm-hearted  _ mrrow _ . "What's the worst that could happen? We eat well again? That hawk was the first time we'd had our bellies all full for moons."

_ Yeah, and I get my back nearly torn to shreds again, _ Scourge thought a bit bitterly. He couldn't say he was surprised at his lack of sensitivity for someone he must've considered still an enemy. Not like he wanted to be considered his Clanmate instead, anyhow. 

"It's nearly sunhigh, we should get going if we want to get home before dusk. We'll eat then go." 

_ At least my meal won't get interrupted this time _ , he thought to himself. He mentally caught himself and admitted that perhaps he wasn't in the best humor he could've been. Sorrelkit was just a child, after all. 

Firestar and Scourge shared a vole before they set off for the twoleg place, the ThunderClan leader finding it mildly amusing that the tom was still savoring forest flavors as openly as he was. He touched noses with Greystripe before they left. 

"You're not bringing Cloudtail with you? I thought you said that we're visiting his mother?" Scourge inquired, though he much preferred the silence. 

"He's out on a hunting patrol with Brightheart. Plus, he's a full grown cat, he can visit Princess whenever he feels it's appropriate," he replied. 

Scourge nodded quietly to himself. He'd noticed Brightheart and Cloudtail were always together, clearly courting, though he didn't know if they were officially mates. "I…What did that to y'know…her face?" He asked, cheeks heating up at how childish his question must have sounded. 

"Tigerstar's dogs." Firestar's tone had darkened considerably, that glimmer in his vermillion eyes extinguished by thought. He picked up his pace, as to not walk side-by-side with Scourge anymore. 

"Oh," he murmured. His eyes darted back to the forest floor and they kept walking. While he enjoyed silence, he did not intend the quiet between them to be a heavy one. 

Scourge was not entirely faultless in this, he knew. He used to get cold enjoyment out of the suffering of others- out of watching cats bleed and wail and die. But this was different. Now he was in the paws of others, and he was being cared for. If ThunderClan was supposed to be a prison it was hardly a physical one, he hadn't been harmed or very well restricted beyond the camp walls. He hadn't been particularly harmed either. It was the social aspect that kept him down, and he knew it. He just wanted to be trusted enough to leave. He craved no bloodshed here. 

He changed the subject. "What was your family like?" It was really the only thing to come up with. He bounded over a small bundle of tightly knit tree roots and took a deep breath, wary of the condition of his lungs. 

Firestar made a bewildered little noise but answered anyway. "My family is all of ThunderClan. But Sandstorm is my mate and Greystripe my deputy." 

Scourge knew why he listed those two together but he didn’t make an attempt to pry. “My littermates and mother never treated me very well. I don’t know anything about my father other than that he was orange, and apparently quite the heartbreaker.” And his name! It was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t quite find it. Jack maybe? Jacob? Something like that.  _ That isn’t really important information _ , he thought.  _ No need to bring it up. _

“Nutmeg never spoke of our father. Though from what I can tell I must look just like him,” Firestar commented, warmth returning to his eyes. 

They both spotted the slope that led up to the twolegplace after making their way past Tallpines, the wooden fences and occasional low brick walls jutting out of the earth like sharp stones. Though the sun had nearly reached its highest arch in the sky, frost still glittered on the leaves and grass that had yet to be disturbed by paws- a cat’s or otherwise. The low, threatening rumble that was deep enough to gently shake the earth itself told them that a large monster was cruising through the neighborhood, but they never traveled off of the thunderpath, so neither of the traveling cats were too alarmed. 

“Is this it?” Scourge whispered in a low rasp, not wanting to alert any kittypet in the vicinity. Some of them could get aggressive- some of them could very well  _ recognize _ him, too. He would rather not have any more violence enacted on him any time soon, he was sick of getting battered by surly little Clan cats who jumped at him for no reason. 

“Yes, it’s this one,” Firestar whispered and gestured with his tail towards the first twoleg nest on the edge of the forest. His eyes flickered between the nest and the black tom he was traveling with, feeding off his nervous energy. “Stay back here, I’ll talk to Princess and try to get her out here.”

Bunching the muscles of his haunches, Firestar leaped up onto the edge of the fence and disappeared into the twoleg nest’s garden. Scourge couldn’t see him beyond through the thin lines between the planks of wood that made the fence, but he could still make his vibrant orange fur behind a patch of dry tall grasses on the other side. The garden smelled of peat and cold and damp decaying leaves, still lingering from the previous leaf-fall. 

“Princess!” The ThunderClan leader called loudly, giving a drawn out meow, certainly enough to have alerted the twolegs inside by the shuffling that could be heard coming from inside the nest. Scourge heard the door unlatch and slide open and another set of paw steps scurry out, a twoleg murmuring something as it’s pet left. 

“Oh, Princess!” 

Scourge could make out the two cats gently touching noses in greeting. From what he could make out of Princess, she looked to be a petite brown and white tabby, a green collar around her neck marking her clearly as a kittypet. He found himself considering her possible use in BloodClan but caught himself before he got sidetracked. He doubted he would be going back to that life, let alone resuming a leader position to allow cats to join or exile them according to his personal whims. 

“I’ve missed you,” he heard a feminine voice breathe. Must’ve been the other cat, then. “How did that- that battle go? With BloodClan? Oh how dreadful, you’ve still got scratches!” She cried, familial concern ringing clear in her mewl. 

"I've missed you too," Firestar mewed, his voice strained from purrs. "The battle went fine, Princess. We lost Whitestorm but the Clans are safe and peace will rule the forest for moons to come," he assured her. "Greystripe is my new deputy." 

Scourge could hear her purr from there. She clearly did not understand the life-or-death balance that had been fought over in the forest only a half moon earlier, and as a kittypet he suspected she never would. She seemed more joyful for her brother's friend's deputyship than the death of the cat he had replaced- which he found a bit distasteful. He remembered clearly why he did not enjoy the company of soft kittypets, he was of the understanding that they were ignorant. 

"Wh…What's that smell? Who's over there?" Princess bristled as the wind shifted to Scourge’s disadvantage. He’d learned to never underestimate a kittypet’s territorial aggression, so he took a few steps back, and lowered himself against the ground to appear less threatening. The hefty brown and white she-cat leaped onto the fence and balanced there, staring at him with an accusatory glare and fur standing on end. Firestar quickly joined his sister with a much more graceful jump.

“This-this is my Clanmate,” the orange tom fumbled slightly with his words.  _ Clanmate _ ?  _ Hardly. _ Scourge thought slightly irritably. 

Forcing himself to stand up straight, the black tom was still noticeably smaller than either of the two cats before him. He opened his mouth to speak but it felt dry and sandy. “I’m Scourge,” he breathed out finally, giving himself a small shake. 

Princess immediately narrowed her eyes at him. “The BloodClan fellow?” Her hackles raised but Firestar blocked her path with his tail, gently keeping her on the fence. She turned to look at her brother. “Why did you bring him here?” She asked, voice low, but Scourge could still hear her easily enough. 

“It’s alright,” Firestar breathed out in an attempt to soothe her. “I’m just here to ask questions about our family,” he explained. 

“Our family? What about it? And why did you bring him?” She asked, smooth mew returning to being calm. She did look kind enough when not being so aggressive.

“He was going to show me his old twoleg home,” the orange tom told her simply. “I wanted to visit you in the meantime. Make sure you knew we were all mostly okay,” he continued.   
Princess cast Scourge a scornful glance but he said nothing. She continued to stare at him from the side while she spoke. “Okay...I s’pose. What did you want to discuss?” She didn’t seem to want him listening but he made no attempt to move away.

“Do you know anything about our father? Do you know him?” Firestar piped up to regain her attention.

“Oh...I’ve never met him,” she murmured after a moment of thought. “His name is Jake.”

_ Jake. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FIRE POV BABES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK so i finally finished this. No beta reader we die like men.

Pale early morning light streamed through trees lush with leaves, shrouding the ground in murky mulberry colored light. Wind tugged at the branches, urging a whispering through the leaves like the indistinct distant murmuring of cats. Stars glittered like ice in the sky, unobstructed by the light that always dulled them near the twolegplace. There stood Firestar, orange pelt stark and obvious in the low-light of the hollow, stilled in a hunting crouch as he inched towards his prey. A mouse scuttled in the leaf litter on the ground, nibbling on a small nut while perched nimbly on the root of a tree. He bunched his haunches and readied himself to push forward.

A breath of frost teased the fur on his ears, giving him a start. A small yowl of surprise jumped from his maw before he could stop himself, and his pelt prickled in apprehension. The mouse had disappeared, and left tiny paw prints behind on the root. The air fogged in front of him every time he exhaled. “ _ Who’s there? _ ” he murmured softly, his voice feeling hitched inside his throat.

Suddenly the world tumbled around him, earth upturned, the roar of many season old tears tearing themselves apart battered his ears. He found himself in Fourtrees, paws trembling. With a sudden caterwaul, a battle raged around him. His fur stood on end as he watched Whitestorm- his _ deputy-  _ in a battle lock with a brute of a cat. He rushed forward on panicked paws, his heart pounding in his chest as he leaped, claws outstretched. He felt his body barrel into a misty form which disintegrated at his touch. He crashed into the side of a tree and pain coursed through his limbs. 

"Firestar!" Whitestorm breathed in relief to see him. The orange tom looked at him in confusion, mind fuzzy and vision blurred at the sides.  _ Is this a dream…? _

Whitestorm watched him stumble to his paws with warm and welcoming yellow eyes. The battle had disappeared around them, the scent of fresh blood and fear and death had been replaced by the grip of leaf-bare cold. Looking up, he saw that the leaves on the trees were still full and green. This…couldn't have been real. Firestar shook out his pelt and regarded his deputy- well, former deputy, he realized- with a friendly gaze. 

The white tom-cat who he'd last seen dead in the battle of BloodClan, brittle with age and fur matted with sickly scarlet blood, limp and mouth agape in death, was now tall and handsome and well built. His fur was short but full and was speckled with starlight. 

"Oh, Whitestorm," Firestar gasped and moved forward to press his nose against his old friend's. He was filled to the brim with excitement and happiness and love for his friend. Even as a spirit, he looked strong. He stepped back though and cleared his throat, putting in his best stern expression fit for the esteemed leader of ThunderClan that he was. "You've brought me here for a reason…What does StarClan have to say to me? Another prophecy?" 

A second, smaller white cat pushed its way through the bramble thicket behind them. "Not quite dear," a gentle and feminine voice called. Her eyes were a warm blue and her paws and ears a darker grey than the rest of her pelt. 

"Uh- mother-" Whitestorm stuttered, gazing behind him and immediately shuffling his paws. He took in a deep breath and steadied his expression as his mother, who must've been Snowfur, if Firestar remembered right, slunk forward to sit next to her son. 

“StarClan does have news for you,” Snowfur continued, brushing her feathery tail across her son’s muzzle to silence him. Firestar held back a snicker but said nothing. 

“It’s about him isn’t it?” The leader of ThunderClan asked. Scourge. 

The two cats hadn’t talked much after they’d discovered their familial origin. Scourge had stalked off back to the medicine den and withdrawn within himself, just as irritable as before but perhaps...more mean? He didn’t know how to describe it. He’d isolated himself in the medicine den with Cinderpelt and didn’t involve himself with anybody else. Cloudtail had returned to glaring at him at every turn. It was a mess and Firestar was having trouble managing it. 

“Yes, it is,” the she-cat breathed. Her voice was airy and whispery, gentle and maternal on his ears. He recognized her scent as that of which had stirred his ear-fur earlier. Perhaps she was a bit more mischievous than she was giving off. “Walk with me,” she told him. She pushed forward on light paws and brushed his shoulder with her tail as she passed him. He turned to follow her, and Whitestorm trailed thoughtfully behind them. 

“What are we supposed to do with him?” Firestar asked suddenly, his stiff tone dropping and he looked at her with vulnerability in his eyes. Fear sat like a stone in his belly, and his fur was beginning to stand on end. The three cats kept walking and they approached a slope and padded down it and towards ThunderClan territory, which looked distant now in the moonlight. He idly wondered if he’d ever be able to find that mouse again.

“There is contention among StarClan,” she murmured. She met his verdant green eyes with her cerulean ones. “We did not bring you two cats together, and we have no power over the blood shared between two indivudals. You were brought together by true fate, merely the strings of the universe tying you together. That is far beyond the reach of our meager paws,” she told him.

Firestar shook his head. _ How is that possible? How can it all be one big coincidence?  _ He thought incredulously.

“We do not think it was just by random chance that this cat is your kin,” Snowfur said, as if having read his thoughts. Her expression softened to soothe his worries and he felt the claws gripping his stomach uncurl. “You are the fire that saved the forest, Firestar,” she reminded him, “and while it’s up to you what you do with him...some of us-” he heard Whitestorm grunt behind them but the white she-cat chose to ignore it. “ _ Ahem _ . Some of us think that you should keep him. He is of your blood, and if Cloudtail has proved anything, it’s that even the hardest nut to crack can be a productive and important part of a Clan’s community.”

“But- he’s Scourge! They’ll never accept him. He’s hurt them dearly, he killed one of their oldest friends and a warrior they held close to their hearts.”

Snowfur nodded in understanding, face warm. She slowed her pace and let Whitestorm match pace with Firestar now. 

“I know it must be difficult to understand,” his former deputy began after a moment’s hesitation. “But...I hold no anger in my heart. Resentment only would weigh down my paws in StarClan, and I served ThunderClan well. I was old- well, I  _ am _ old,” he gave an uncharacteristic  _ mrrow _ of laughter. “But with enough time they will move on. Life continues on... in fact I already think it has,” he said softly with a bittersweet glint in his yellow eyes. Firestar didn’t understand what he meant. 

“So we keep him? Train him as a warrior?” He gaped. 

The two cats had already began to swirl away into a mist of stars, dissipating like a cloud of fireflies during a summer evening,

“No! Wait please, don’t leave me like this!” He called, eyes wide. He paced back and forth a few times, and yowled to the sky. “Whitestorm! Snowfur!” He could see his breath again in front of him, the world felt frozen in time around him. Cold seemed to reach inside his very soul as frost creeped up from the grass and onto his paws, piercing his skin like tiny needle-like claws.

Firestar woke up with a start, sucking in a breath of air like it was his very first. Desperation clawed at his pelt and he leaped to his paws, startling the cat who laid beside him. He was panting hard. 

“Woahh now! Aw c’mon Firestar, I was sleepin’ good,” Greystripe muttered good naturedly. He peeked a yellow eye open at him. The fondness in his familiar gaze was quickly replaced with concern as soon as he realized that he had been having some kind of upsetting dream. “Oh…were you havin’ a nightmare? I’m sorry,” he backtracked in a soft tone. 

Rain pattered evenly on the top of the leader’s den, which was chilled by the cold of the morning right before dawn seeping inside the entrance and settling on the dusty earth of the floor. Firestar could hear the stirring of the Clan even inside the moss covered rock crevice he slept in, they didn’t seem as tormented by dreams of cold and pain and StarClan as he’d been his whole life since arriving there. He let out a sigh of relief for them, though he felt a pang of uncertainty inside of him knowing they’d never understand his position. He turned finally to look at Greystripe who had been curled up in the feather-padded moss beside him.

“Not...a nightmare. I spoke to Whitestorm,” he told him after a heavy heartbeat of pause. 

“Whitestorm!” Greystripe perked up from his sleepy demeanor once his words had registered in his mind. “Has he settled in StarClan? How is he doing- what did he have to say?”

“He and Snowfur, they told me we should keep Scourge here with us, as a Clanmate and not a prisoner,” he replied. He looked unsure of his words even as he said them. _ I have to trust them _ , he thought to himself sternly,  _ StarClan wouldn’t deliberately lie to me. _

Greystripe’s normally lazy expression soured and his muzzle began to curl above his teeth. “ _ Keep _ him? As a Clanmate? Are you serious?” The end of his tail twitched in irritation as it passed over him like a wave. “Why would they suggest that?” He asked.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Firestar replied. “They said he shared my blood. And that he’s meant to serve ThunderClan and be a forest cat like us.”

“Blood doesn’t make you a good cat. Ravenpaw and Dustpelt are as different as two folks could be and they’re littermates! And you’re even more different than that when you compare the two of ya,” Greystripe argued with a drawl. 

“He’s my brother, Greystripe! That has to mean  _ something! _ ”

The grey-tabby tom didn’t meet his gaze and his attention drifted to the moss that hung over the entrance to the leaders den. He looked slightly put out. “I know. I just don’t know how you’re gonna break that to the rest of the Clan,” he told him honestly. 

Firestar sighed and moved down to lick at the other tom’s ears. “Where’s Sandstorm?” He asked after they had settled down back together. “I think I need her right now.”

“She was standing guard at the entrance,” he told him, gesturing outside with his muzzle in the direction of the bracken tunnel. “Has been all night. She was restless.”

“Mind if I ask her to join us?” He asked.

“Of course not,” Greystripe replied with a  _ mrrow _ . 

Pushing his way through the hanging moss after getting to his paws, he glanced around the clearing until he spotted the pale fawn colored she-cat he called a mate. His face changed to a glow when he saw her, her eyes scrunched up as she shook a water droplet from her nose. She gave a tiny high pitched sneeze and looked around hastily to see if anybody saw. She glared at him lightly when she saw him, but it was all in good fun. 

Dawn light had only just begun to peek through the low tree line, coloring the clearing in a blooming pink hue which purple still lingered at its edges.

“How did guard duty go?” He greeted her with a purr. “Nothing too eventful, I’d hope.” 

Sandstorm yawned and gave a long and luxurious stretch, kneading at the earth with her forepaws while doing so. She gave her pelt a shake as to dispel the sleepiness that had fallen over her like a fresh powdering of snow. “Nothing to report I’m afraid,” she told him with a grateful blink. “I just know how much you’re looking for some more drama in our lives.”

“Good, good,” he murmured in reply, admittedly still quite distracted and overrun with thoughts of his dream. 

“Did you need something, Firestar?” She looked down at him with a curious glint in those green eyes of hers. He felt warmth flush his face and chest as he remembered how much he loved her. He was so glad to have joined ThunderClan, even if he’d never become leader or gone on any adventures it was worth it just to have met Greystripe and Sandstorm.

“Just wanted to relieve you of your duty for today, it was a long night,” he told her after a heartbeat’s worth of hesitation. “And I was wondering if you’d be willing to join me and Greystripe for a nap before the day started and we have to get going.”

Sandstorm gave a light laugh and nodded. “You’re lucky I happen to like you. Normally I’d turn down a deal like that.” She gave a light laugh and got to her paws and trotted towards the den. He followed her, a bit sluggish. He was still ruffled. Both of them pushed into his den underneath the Highrock, Firestar hanging behind to let her enter first. 

The three of them curled up together in a heap of fiery ginger, fawn colored, and grey fur. His two partners did not have the same feelings for each other as they had for him or he had for them, he knew that, they were kin after all. But he was happy that they were spending time together like this.

As the sun rose a bit higher in the sky, a stream of pale warm light seeping into their den like an unwanted intruder, an alert that they had to get up and begin their duties. Or, well at least Greystripe and he would have to, they’d leave Sandstorm to her dozing for now. Firestar slowly got to his feet and prodded the dark grey tom with a paw. “Come on, let’s get going,” he told him in a low whisper. “You need to set up patrols.”

The rest of the morning went smoothly. While Clan life certainly could be monotonous, it had a comforting lull to it when tensions weren’t building at all sides. Firestar didn’t think this was one of those nice days though. He still felt those cold needles of frost crystals digging into his skin whenever his mind drifted away from reality for a moment.  _ Why must StarClan always be so vague…? If they’d just tell me what to do I’d do it!  _ He thought with a tinge of desperation. “They said it was my choice,” he mumbled to himself under his breath. He turned his gaze to the sky though he could no longer see the gleam of Silverpelt because of the clouds and the dawn having broken. He knew they could still hear his prayers. 

“Who said what was your choice?” A new voice piped up. He hadn’t seen Cinderpelt limp her way across the clearing to address him while he was lost in his own thoughts. She looked bright-eyed and cheerful this morning, though he could tell from how she was holding her leg that it was hurting her some. He hated that his former apprentice had pain like she did, but he was proud of her for keeping strong like she had. Any help she needed the Clan was glad to provide and he was happy to have fostered a community like that for any that needed it. 

“Oh-! Cinderpelt, I didn’t see you coming!” he exclaimed. His eyes darted back and forth a few times and he licked his chest fur in embarrassment. “I...I had a dream from StarClan last night.”

Cinderpelt’s eyes widened and she sat down in front of him to listen. “About Scourge?” She guessed. 

He nodded. “Whitestorm and Snowfur visited me. They told me that Scourge sharing my blood has to mean something, and that they didn’t plan this,” Firestar explained. “And then it felt like I was overwhelmed with ice, it was crawling up all my legs like it was going to eat me.”

Cinderpelt looked down at her paws in thought, shuffling them. He didn’t think she knew who Snowfur was but if she did, she didn’t comment on it. “Maybe…It’s like how ice is the opposite of fire. When Spottedleaf received the prophecy about how fire would save the Clan, Bluestar was obviously skeptical because fire is feared by all things, not just the Clans. Fierce cold is feared the same way, but maybe he has something to offer like you do,” she advised. Firestar was struck by how wise she seemed at so young. Perhaps she was meant to be a Medicine Cat after all. 

“So you think we should keep him? As a member of the Clan and not a prisoner?” The ginger tom was eager to hear another cat’s advice about the situation. Despite being younger than him by four or five seasons, and just got to being ThunderClans healer without the help of a mentor, he trusted her thoughts and input dearly. She was his Medicine Cat, after all, chosen and taught by Yellowfang and StarClan themselves. 

“Scourge could be a valuable member of ThunderClan if we could convince him to participate. It will be controversial- and for  _ good _ reason- but the other Clans will move on. It’s not like Brokenstar, he’s not stealing kittens or forcing them into battle he’s just… a cat. He no longer has the power he held over BloodClan,” she advised him coolly. 

_ They’re friends _ , Firestar realized with a harsh pang of realization.  _ Real friends.  _ Medicine Cats couldn’t take mates according to their code, though he didn’t worry about it since that’s not the way a moony cat talks about the cat they’re after. It was just strange to imagine somebody being friends with Scourge. His brother. 

“You’d probably have to rename him, and you’d have to find somebody willing to mentor him so he can become a real warrior,” Cinderpelt continued. “You’re too busy with Bramblepaw to do it yourself even if that would probably be ideal.”

“He’s almost a warrior, maybe I could train them both…” His voice trailed off though as he knew he was wrong. He heaved a sigh out of his nose and turned his head back up to look at her. “When did you get so wise, eh?” He purred warmly.

“Being with Yellowfang for so long shaves some seasons off your lifespan,” she joked. “That’s why I got so wise so fast. Gotta make up for lost time.”

Firestar snorted and knew it was all in good fun. He knew Yellowfang would’ve cuffed her over the ear for that comment but wouldn’t have taken any offense to it. He cleared his throat after a moment though. “You didn’t come over here knowing I’d had a dream from StarClan,” he pointed out. “What did you need to say?”

She shrugged. “Just here to update you on some things, the usual.” She gave a casual yawn and turned to give her shoulder a quick lick. “Mousefur is wearing herself out as of late, don’t know what that’s about. You should tell her to slow it down, maybe. She’s no spring chicken anymore. Cloudtail’s wounds have all healed but the scars are a little tight and are making him sore but he doesn’t like me fussing over him,” she told him quickly. They did this every quarter moon or so, just to make sure he was informed about the more personal affairs of his Clan. He wanted them to be healthy and happy, after all, a Clan needed healthy and strong warriors if it’s to survive. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Firestar replied with a nod.

“I wasn’t done,” she continued coolly with a slight smug expression. Her face softened though after a quick moment. “Ferncloud is pregnant.”

The ThunderClan leader stifled a snort of surprise. “ _ Really _ ? She’s so young!” He’d only named the she-cat a warrior a moon ago! “Is she okay- she wasn’t hurt was she? Nobody took advantage of her?” He was fluffed up with concern. 

“No, I don’t believe so, her kits won’t come for two and a half moons at least,” she assured him. “But I think I should still talk to her.”

Firestar shuddered slightly at the memory of what happened to Silverstream. Looking into Cinderpelt’s eyes, he knew she was thinking the same thing. They even looked a little similar, in fact. He lowered his voice a bit. “Did she say who the father was? I know she doesn’t have to say but…” He was just worried. 

“She didn’t say anything to me, not like I’d tell you anyway.” Cinderpelt said calmly.

“So  _ not _ Dustpelt? I know he was being inappropriate with her before and if those kits are his- I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Firestar was bristling. 

“I don’t think so,” Cinderpelt replied after a moment of thought. “But I am ordering her to move into the nursery today. I know it’s early but…I feel it’s for the best.”

He nodded in understanding, taking a deep breath through his nose to calm himself. He knew he wouldn’t be able to push down all his feelings towards Dustpelt until those kits’ parentage was confirmed. He didn’t want any creepy toms strolling around his Clan if he had anything to say about it. 

“Is that all you have to report?” He settled down after a few seconds more of festering suspicion. He would deal with it later. 

“Yes, Firestar,” Cinderpelt gave a polite dip of her head to him as they returned to colleagues more than friends, as their roles demanded them to be. 

He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated for a moment as she turned away to trot back to her den, but he interrupted her. “...Fetch Scourge for me, will you? I need to speak with him about this,” he told her in a soft tone, his voice slightly tinged with a rasp. He had things to plan.

Soon enough Scourge did meander his way to that side of the clearing, eyeing Firestar with a suspicious glint in those pale icy eyes of his. The sharp angles of his face still intimidated him somewhat despite having beaten him in the battle of BloodClan. He’d still killed Tigerstar without a blink of hesitation. “And what do you want from me today?” The black cat asked him dryly. 

“It’s good to see you,” Firestar told him, feigning friendliness and positivity to the best of his ability. He could feel the warm glowing expression on his face falter though as Scourge continued to stare at him with those  _ damn _ eyes. He swallowed hard and put on his best serious face and raised his muzzle a bit towards the sky to look more important and confident. 

“...And?” Scourge looked impatient.

“I want to make your place in this Clan official,” he told him, voice stern. 

“... _ Official _ ?” Scourge’s words were slick like honey and sharp like jagged stone. 

Firestar wouldn’t let him continue, as the hostility that the tom before him was radiating felt oppressive against his mind and soul. He cleared his throat to interrupt him. “I want you to train here in ThunderClan and become one of us.” 

Scourge’s icy demeanor looked like it’d been struck with a bolt of lightning, shattering like glass. He shook his head slightly bewildered, and blinked a few times. 

Once again he didn’t give him an opportunity to respond. If he was to be his leader, he had to make it clear that he couldn’t treat him with such acidic disdain. “I want to make you a warrior,” he continued. “I was visited by StarClan and I’ve decided we’re going to keep you here, but you will no longer be considered a prisoner.”

Scourge hesitated. _ Would he ask to leave? If he’s not a prisoner I cannot stop him.  _ Firestar thought with a pang of cold regret that sat knotted in his belly like stone. The smaller cat sitting in front of him hinged open his jaw to speak after a long pause, and all Firestar could hear between then and his words was the heartbeat roaring in his ears. “What exactly would that entail?” He had regained his composure, it seemed. His cyan hued eyes narrowed just a bit. 

“I would hold a ceremony for you and change your name, then I’d appoint you a mentor to train under,” he explained. The claws gripping his insides uncurled and he let out a silent breath of air and prayer of thanks to StarClan. Perhaps this wouldn’t go as badly as he thought it would. 

“You’d be my mentor, yes?” He asked with his head tilted.

“N-...Not quite,” he admitted, but held his gaze. “I have to keep training Bramblepaw until he earns his name, and that won’t be for a moon or two yet if everything goes on schedule. I would pick one of our Clanmates to train you. You won’t have to worry about it too much though, you’re a full grown tom-cat and they won’t have to babysit you all the time,” he assured him, eyes brightening. 

Scourge paused to soak in the information but nodded as he spoke, glancing around the clearing at the cats milling about and enjoying their day and the routine of Clan life. He turned back to look at him with more of an earnest expression. “Is this because we share a father? Did you decide to keep me here because of that?”

“A smart medicine cat I happen to trust very much helped me interpret my dream from StarClan,” he explained to him calmly. 

Scourge scrunched up his muzzle and shook his head but sighed, in thought. He looked back up at him and nodded. “You won’t name me anything stupid, will you?” He muttered, eyes glinting with humor. 

“I think you already took care of that one for yourself, Scourge,” Firestar gave a  _ mrrow _ of laughter. “...You can go back to the medicine cat den if you wish to, I need some time to think about this,” he said after a moment of comfortable silence. 

He watched Scourge bound back to the Medicine Den as fast as he could without drawing attention, it seemed like he was in a hurry to return to his friend. 

The sun was setting now, hours later, forest flooded with red and purple hues and deep shadows were casted across the ThunderClan camp’s clearing. It’d stopped raining by then, and the sky had cleared, silverpelt had begun to shimmer in the sky. He hoped StarClan watched his decision that night. This was important, and perhaps the most controversial move of his career as a leader so far, but he knew somewhere deep in his heart that it was meant to be. He would not let any doubts creep into his mind today. 

“Cats of ThunderClan!” His yowl rose above the clearing as he launched himself onto the great rock with the most grace and agility he could manage. “All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!”

Many eyes glinted in the low light of the evening as cats promptly gathered under the looming presence of the Highrock that also served as his den. Whispers rose from the small crowd, mutterings questioning what this was about.  _ There aren't any ceremonies that should be happening soon _ , he remembered.  _ They’re probably concerned. _ He lowered his gaze to lock eyes with his brother who was settled far enough from the crowd to not draw attention to himself, Cinderpelt sitting diligently near him. His expression hardened as he focused and took in a breath between parted lips to continue his speech.

“Firstly, I’d like to congratulate Ferncloud. She is expecting kits! They should be born some time in New-Leaf,” he meowed, intending to start out with the good news first. He saw the mottled grey she-cat shuffle her paws in mild embarrassment as the Clan rose into a caterwaul of happy commotion. A few cats gently bumped into her side with affection, and Brindleface quickly pushed through the crowd to look over her admittedly sickly looking daughter. Ashfur gave his littermate a brisk nod, as did Cloudtail, though they were not related by blood.

Once all the cats settled and drew their eyes back to the Highrock, he continued. “That’s not the only thing I have to announce tonight…” He hesitated and closed his eyes for barely a mouse’s heartbeat. “Scourge! Step forward.”

The cats below him all immediately soured at the sound of his name, as Scourge, now looking meek and small, padded forward as cats separated like the flow of water to allow him to pass by them without getting too close. He heard a few hisses and pops but the black tom seemed to have gotten more skilled at ignoring them. Scourge sat down in front of the ledge he was standing on and tilted his muzzle up towards him with pride. Nothing kept him low for long, it looked. 

“StarClan has shared lots of things with me in my time,” Firestar said, keeping his tone calm and still. “But this was a decision they advised me to make on my own. This is a...unique situation, I admit.” The ThunderClan residents were beginning to become restless and agitated, some of them had already risen to their paws, but they all remained silent to hear their leader speak out of basic respect.

“I have decided to admit Scourge as a full cat of ThunderClan.” The words tumbled from his maw like a bunch of clumsy pebbles falling from a pile, all in rapid and unorganized succession. He gulped but puffed out his chest. “Scourge! My brother, my kin, my blood-! Under Silverpelt and all of StarClan laying it’s judgement upon me, I grant you the name Frostpaw.” He yowled towards the heavens so loud it made his voice hoarse. The stars glittered above the clearing like ice, silent as always. 

_ Frostpaw. _

The yowls of the Clan began immediately. Frostfur herself looked appalled, disgusted to share a name with the vile creature in front of all of them. Ashfur gave a hearty growl and his fur bristled. Ferncloud pressed wearily into her mother’s side, who was standing, tail bushed and back arched. Mousefur was the only one who could form a cohesive sentence through all the aggression and betrayed wailing.

“I think I can speak for all of us when I say we are _ not _ training that weasel,” Mousefur’s cold words cut through all the noise like a blade of slate. Many around her yowled in agreement and she puffed up, emboldened by their encouragement of her outburst. She held Firestar’s gaze with a blazing passion that reminded him of why she was such an important warrior and member of their Clan. 

“We don’t want him here,” Longtail grunted in agreement. “We only let him stay here because he was our _ prisoner. _ We’ve made exceptions for your kin before,” he said hotly, “and they’ve made enough trouble as is.” He sent a staggering glare towards Cloudtail who met it back with one just as harsh and cutting.

As the argument blossomed like a fiery flower in the clearing, a cool voice broke it up with a simple phrase. “I’ll mentor him.” 

It was Cinderpelt. 


End file.
